Fracture

2. Dylan

CHAPTER 2

DYLAN

I have a thing for nails, and hands. When a woman has real pretty hands, and her nails are all done, it just fucking does something to me. The thought of those nails scratching down my back, leaving behind long, red marks in my skin…

That, and I haven’t seen a woman all done up and looking good in years, especially not one as beautiful as Stella Langford. And right now, Stella is tapping her pretty white-tipped nails against her wooden countertops, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

God fucking dammit , she looks good.

She gathers her honey-colored hair up in a hand, twirling it and tossing it over her shoulder, turning slightly so I can see her profile. Her white tank top barely covers her stomach, and I can’t think too much about the fact she’s not wearing a bra, because her breasts are fucking perfect.

Her tiny pink and white striped shorts barely cover her ass, sitting low on her hips. She’s definitely not a girl anymore. When I left her, she was still a teenager, but now she’s a woman with a figure to fucking die for.

Shit.

I made a promise to myself when her offer came to us via our lawyer, when Stella said that we could stay with her when we got out - I wouldn’t make any assumptions. I wouldn’t be possessive and weird about it all, because we couldn’t just pick up where we’d left off. For all I knew she was married, or at least had a boyfriend. The thought kept me up at night, but I didn’t have a right to her, not anymore. I had to leave all of that behind, because I didn’t know a thing about the woman she was now.

But as I watch her from the shadows, pacing her kitchen because she can’t sleep, I know I was an idiot. There’s never been anyone else for me. She’s so beautiful it fucking hurts to look at her, just the same as the first time I ever saw her.

She bends down to put some glasses in the dishwasher, her tiny shorts riding up to reveal the curve of her round ass, and I have to stifle a breath. But my hand flexes on the door frame, and she hears the whisper of my fingers against the wood. She jerks upright and snaps her head over her shoulder to find me standing there, watching her. Like a fucking creep.

“Can’t sleep?” Her tone is cold, and after what happened in the garage a few hours ago, I can’t blame her. I should have defended her, I should have sent Levi packing for how he spoke to her. But that throws up a whole new complicated layer of emotion, my chest tensing, and I have to push that away and focus on Stella instead.

I step into the kitchen, illuminated only by the light over the range and a candle Stella lit by the window.

“Nah, the bed’s too comfortable.”

“You can always throw a blanket on the floor.” She gives me a flash of a cynical smile, before her face drops back into the classic Langford Mask, tossing her hair again and turning her back to me. “Dogs like sleeping on the floor, right?”

I can’t help but laugh a little. “I guess I deserve that.”

“To be called a dog? Yeah, you do.” She fills a glass with water and gulps it down, turning back to me with narrowed eyes. “You think the same as Levi, huh? That I’m a sell-out?”

I shake my head emphatically, raising my hands. “It’s not like that, I-”

“Because if it’s offensive to you both that I am what I am, you can leave.” She lifts an eyebrow, looking me up and down. “I was just trying to be nice. But nice has never gotten me very far. You know where the door is if you need it.”

I try to close the distance between us, but she takes a step back, arms crossed over her chest.

“Baby, that’s not-”

“Do not call me baby, Dylan. Or sweetheart, or anything else. Those days are long gone.” She notices the dip in my gaze, and presses her tits together even more firmly. “Listen, I know you just got out of jail, and I know they’re amazing, but you can keep your eyes fucking up .”

I laugh and run a hand over my head. “Jesus, Stella, you sure know how to make things hard for a guy.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Her lips curl into a grin. “And in fact, you will never know. Now, I need to get some sleep.” She shuts off the range hood light.

“Stella, I’m sorry. I am. He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. And I should have told him as much. But I do not think you’re a sell-out. I would never think that. You’re doing great, and I’m so grateful you’re giving us a chance here.”

She pauses in the candlelight, body bent slightly over the counter as she prepares to blow out the flame. She exhales heavily, the flame dancing lightly. “Great. Thanks.” She blows out the candle, and the kitchen is illuminated only by the faint flow of the streetlight through the window. She goes to move past me, and my hand shoots out to grab her arm.

“Stella-”

She wrenches her arm out of my grasp. “Don’t.”

“ Stella. ” I put my hands either side of her and cage her against the door frame. “Please, talk to me.”

“Dylan, let me go right now.” Her eyes are dark, her full lips almost red in this light.

“I just want to talk to you.”

“I tried that, remember? I tried to talk to you and my stupid stepbrother, tonight, in my fucking garage.” She shoves me in the chest lightly. “I’m not in the mood to talk anymore.” She turns to shove against my arm, but I drop it and put it around her waist, pulling her close to me.

“Don’t walk away from me, please.”

“ Stop .” She fights me, nails scratching at my bare skin.

“So that’s it?” I ask, not letting her go, keeping her rage-flamed body pressed to mine. “No second chances?”

She writhes in my grasp, wriggling her hips as she pushes against my chest. “Dylan, fucking stop .”

“I went to prison for you, and you can’t even fucking talk to me?”

Her mouth drops open and she gasps. “Fuck you!” She hisses at me in the dark, her teeth flashing in the cold light. “How fucking dare you.”

I know I shouldn’t go down this road. It’s not fair. It’s not her fault. But all the hurt and the fear, all that fucking injustice bubble up inside me and I can’t help it.

“I went to prison for you, and you couldn’t even be bothered visiting me? For ten. Fucking. Years.”

Her eyes widen, and she goes still in my arms. “You have no idea what I went through in those years.

“What are you talking about?” I grip her arms tighter, trying to pull her closer and maybe even shake the truth out of her, something, anything, to let me feel connected to this woman again.

“You weren’t the only one locked up.” She shoves against me, hard enough to unbalance me and make it very clear I’m going to get my eyes clawed out by those pretty nails if I don’t ease off. She braces one hand against the wall, her head dropping, shoulders heaving as one breath after another skitters across her full lips. “You have no idea about me. None.”

“Then let me in.” I take a step forward, met instantly by the thud of her outstretched palm against my stomach.

“No. Not again. Not anymore.”

“Baby, it was meant to be us.”

“You thought you’d get out and we’d just pick up where we left off?” She lifts her head to meet my eyes, and even in the darkness I can see the pain etched in that pretty face. I can feel it permeating her amber eyes. It rolls off her whole body. “Is that what you thought?”

“No, it’s what I hoped.”

She laughs bitterly, running a hand through her hair. “Hope is for kids, Dylan. Reality is for the rest of us.”

“Come on.” I try to take her hand again, but she clutches it tight against her body. “I just want to hold you.”

“I’m not the girl you loved anymore, I haven’t been for a very long time.”

I huff out a breath, desperate to take her in my arms and smell the sweet scent of her skin. “Well, maybe I don’t want her. I want you, as you are, right now.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Yes I do.”

Suddenly she’s pushed off the wall and headed down the hall. “Get some sleep, Dylan. Even if it’s on the floor.”

A door closes softly in the dark house, and I’m left alone with nothing but my memories, and a scratch mark down my bicep.

That night, I dream of a party, long ago, when Stella was young and sweet, and I was a teenage boy with a crush. When she’d touched my hand under the table, her pinky curling around mine as she smiled at me, and it had felt like coming home. When she’d let me pull her down the side of the house and push her against the wall, and I’d kissed those full lips for the first time. When I’d whispered, “You’re mine, aren’t you?” against her mouth, and she’d nodded.

I’m yours, papi. I’m yours.

The salon is busy when I push through the door, my arrival heralded by the ringing of a bell above me.

“Can I help you?” The young woman at the counter eyes me with a crooked smirk, brushing her copper red hair over her shoulder and tilting her hips.

I spot Zee working on a client in the corner, and gesture to them vaguely. “I’m actually here to see Zee.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, and with a quick nod she looks over her shoulder. “Oh well, they’re busy right now.” Her gaze turns back to me, and that suggestive smile is back. “Since you don’t look like you need a haircut, maybe I can get you a coffee while you wait?”

I shove my hands into my pockets, giving her a polite nod. “That’d be great, thanks.”

“How do you like it?” She lifts an eyebrow as she says it, her gaze wandering up and down my body in a brief flicker that has me suppressing a cringe.

“Just black.”

She purses her lips, her eyes widening. “I read somewhere that only psychopaths take their coffee that way.” She leans on the counter, squeezing her tits together in her low-cut black shirt.

I roll my shoulders and look her square in the eye. “Well I did just get out of prison for murder, so…”

Her eyes bug out, her body instantly straightening and her hands curling protectively against her chest. “Are you joking?”

Zee’s light laughter sounds across the salon, and they approach me with raised hands. “Homo!” They call affectionately, and the girl at the counter looks like she wants to melt into a grease spot on the floor.

“Hey, Freak.” I can’t help but smile as Zee wraps their long arms around me and hugs me tight. “Nice place you got here.”

“Oh, you’re too kind.” Zee draws back from me, looking me up and down, shaking their head. “I see prison gave you around 100 pounds of muscle and 200 of ink.” They run a finger along the snake tattoo that encircles my neck. “But this work is gorgeous. Was it done with a plastic spoon and a biro?”

I laugh out loud. “Hate to disappoint you, but it was just a plain old tattoo gun.”

Zee’s eyebrows quirk almost comically. “Since when do they let you have those in prison?”

“Since I went into San Verenas where Yolanda Crosby’s son is incarcerated and she wants to make sure we’re all very comfortable.”

Zee rolls their eyes. “Oh god, I forgot about the governor’s son.” Zee looks over their shoulder at the redhead who’s still regarding us with a look of wild confusion. “Amy, honey, my friend is taking me out for lunch.”

“OK, no problems, I got everything under control.” She eyes me apologetically. “I hope I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t realize you were gay.”

“He’s not!” Zee waves breezily, pushing me out the door and onto the busy main street of Bellford Heights. They link their arm through mine and click their tongue. “Amy’s sweet, but simple.”

I chuckle, falling into step with Zee’s energetic strides as they drag me down the street. “Poor kid looked like her heart stopped when you called me Homo.”

Zee tosses their purple dreadlocks over their shoulder and smiles up at me, their smiley piercing glinting in the sun. “Her parents are good bible folk, and you’re probably the first bisexual man that’s ever crossed her path.” They lean their head against my shoulder. “Freak and Homo, together again.” Suddenly, they shove me away and stop in front of a florist, glowering at me. “Wait a second, I forgot. I’m mad at you.”

I run a hand over my head, my eyes dropping to the pavement. “I was wondering why you were being so nice to me. I was ready for you to tear my ear off.”

“Stella told me you expected to get laid the second you got out, you animal.” They tap their foot against the ground. “And something about blaming her for going to prison?”

The well-dressed people passing us by look a little shocked by Zee’s outburst, taking in their colorful clothing and even more colorful hair with a sneer. Zee’s head snaps around to them, their face bursting instantly into a bright smile.

“Hey folks, gorgeous weather, amirite? Y’all have a blessed day!”

The people return Zee’s enthusiastic smiles with slightly more awkward ones, and hurry along the footpath. Zee watches them go, the smile not dropping til they turn back to face me, one hand perched on their hip.

“OK asshole, explain.”

“Can we go sit down for this lunch I’m buying you first, so we don’t put this lovely flower store out of business?”

Zee huffs, and grabs my arm again. “Fine. I’m starving and I need sushi. Let’s go.”

It’s not until Zee has a plate of spicy tuna rolls in front of them and I’ve downed half a red enamel cup of miso that they tilt their head and snap their chopsticks in my direction.

“OK, Kovac, speak.”

“Pointing your chopsticks at people is considered rude, you know.”

Zee jabs the chopsticks in my direction with renewed gusto. “I said, speak.”

I sigh and throw up my hands. “I was an asshole. It wasn’t like that though, I didn’t expect to get laid, I really didn’t. And the other stuff, I was… I was hurt.”

“Over?”

I watch Zee dunk their tuna roll in a bowl of soy sauce lashed liberally with wasabi. “Her not coming to visit us.”

Zee nods, chewing their food thoughtfully. “Mmm. Did she tell you why?”

My stomach does a deeply unpleasant flip, and my mouth runs dry. “She just said we weren’t the only ones locked up.”

“Mmm.”

“Mmm? Is that all you’re gonna say?”

Zee finishes chewing and takes a sip of their diet coke, eyeing me critically over the edge of the can. “You’re hurt, I get it. I would be too. But it’s not that she didn’t love you.”

The word love makes my chest ache in the worst fucking way, all the memories that kept me from sleeping the night before welling up at the backs of my fucking eyeballs. She loved me. Stella loved me. She loved us. And she stayed away from us for ten fucking years.

“If it wasn’t that, then what was it?”

Zee leans back in their chair, crossing their lithe arms over their chest. “Has she told you anything? About where she went, who she lived with? What her life was like?”

I can’t help but frown at the questions Zee is throwing my way. “Who she lived with? Well, her mom of course.”

Zee laughs out loud, a sound that overshadows the other conversations going on in the cozy sushi restaurant. “Her mom? The bohemian alcoholic with 17 husbands to her name? You really think she came swooping in when her daughter needed somebody?”

My blood runs cold, and my mouth is the fucking Sahara. “Where did she stay? Her mom really didn’t come back?”

Zee shakes their head emphatically, picking up another tuna roll and inspecting it carefully. “Did y’all ever write to her? Like, did either of you ever sit down, and write her a letter, and ask what was happening?”

I swallow down my shame. “No. Her letters, they… They made us angry. They were… They were nothing. Just bland, like it wasn’t even her writing them.” I lift my gaze sheepishly to meet Zee’s. “It made me think she didn’t care anymore.”

“So there’s some truth to what you said the other night then?” Zee’s eyes bore into mine. “You and Levi felt she owed you, and when she didn’t perform the way you wanted, you dropped her like a fucking stone.”

I rub the back of my neck, laughing awkwardly. “Now, Zee, come on.”

“After everything that poor girl went through, you had the audacity to sit there and wait for her to come to you? To write you in a way that made you feel special?” Zee throws their chopsticks on to the table and shakes their head. “Unbelievable.”

“I love Stella. I went to prison for her. ”

“You went to prison for killing her dad.” Zee’s indignation is cutting, slicing straight through my confidence and the surety that I did the right thing. The look in their eyes tells me in no uncertain terms that they’re judging me, hard. “You and Levi, what happened that night, if either of you had thought about Stella for even one second, neither of you would have pulled that trigger.”

“I was thinking about her.”

“You don’t get it.” Zee thumps two fingers against their temple. “You just do not comprehend what the fuck you left her in.”

“So tell me!” A few heads jerk in our direction at my outburst, and I take a deep breath. “Zee, we’ve always been friends. You and me, Homo and Freak, right? You have to know, you have to believe me, I did it for her. I did it because I love her. I did it because that asshole deserved to rot in hell for what he did to her.”

Zee crosses their lithe arms loosely over their chest again, tilting their head and tonguing their piercing as they regard me thoughtfully. “I’ve never doubted that you love her, Kovac. But she does. And if you want that back, get those knees ready for a whole lot of groveling.”

“I’ll do anything. Anything. Please just tell me what happened after we went inside.”

Zee shrugs lightly, unfurling their arms and reaching for their diet coke. “Gloria happened.”

I blink, and shake my head slowly. “What do you mean?”

Zee runs their tongue along their teeth, eyes widening over a sigh. “Gloria kept that poor girl right where she wanted her.”

The words make bile rise in my throat. “But why would Gloria take guardianship of Stella? By what right?”

“By Rich White Lady Right. By Widow of a Politician Right. By Nearly First Goddamn Lady Right.” Zee’s voice slows to an emphatic drawl, their eyes filling with pain with every word they speak. “Gloria had the sympathy of the entire fucking country, and she played that role perfectly. She even wore black for a full six months after Harold died. And then she had Stella to take out all her anger and resentment on, behind closed doors of course. Levi knows his mother is a straight up sociopath. So do you.”

Gloria Fenton-Langford. My hands curl into fists on my thighs as I remember the last time I saw those ice-cold blue eyes, that blonde hair pulled back so not a strand was out of place. The Demon Bitch of Bellford Heights was what everyone called her. A woman so consumed with hate she’d put the gas to the floor if she saw a dog wandering across the street.

And Stella had been left in her care.

“Levi and I fucked up.”

“You did.” Zee’s face shifts suddenly, into softness and understanding. They take my hand, wrapping their fingers adorned with silver rings around mine. “Hey. You were young. You were stupid and young and you found out someone hurt the girl you loved. I get it. What happened to Stella is not your fault, just like what happened to you and Levi wasn’t hers.”

“I don’t know how to make this right.”

“You could try apologizing, just as a first idea.”

“I tried that.” I run my hands along my thighs, staring out at the brilliant sunshine and the passers-by. “She wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Did you apologize or did you try to make it about you?”

I whip my head back to look at Zee. “What do you mean?”

“Do not look at me all Shocked Face.” Zee draws a haphazard zigzag in the air in the direction of my face. “Stop that. If you want Stella to actually know you’re sorry, it needs to be about more than ‘I missed you and want you back’.”

How do they know these things ? I want to protest, to tell them it wasn’t like that, and I know damn well that makes me a liar. “So what do I do? Buy her flowers, take her out for dinner?”

Zee lifts an eyebrow, snapping up another tuna roll in their chopsticks. “Does Stella like flowers and dinner dates?”

“How should I kn…” I trail off instantly, and sigh heavily. “Right. You’re right. Get to know her. Ask questions.”

“Bingo, stud. There's hope for you yet!” Zee pops the tuna roll in their mouth with obvious delight, waving to someone who passes by the window. “So, what’s next for you?”

I grimace, leaning back in my chair. “I have to go see my grandfather tomorrow.”

“Oh Jesus.” Zee rolls their eyes heavily, glaring at the table. “That old bastard’s still alive?”

“Unfortunately. Probably going to try and talk me into joining the family business again. Since he doesn’t have a son to pass it on to anymore.” I swallow hard. I passed the cemetery on the way here, knowing my parents were lying in there somewhere. I haven’t been to their graves since the day they were laid in them. I still can’t face it. I blink hard, and suddenly Zee’s reached across the table again and takes my hand.

“It's really good to see you, Dylan.” They squeeze my hand, and give me a soft smile as I look up at them. “And I really hope you find some happiness out here.”

“Yeah, once I figure out how this world works, I guess I might.”

“Any ideas what you want to do?”

I shake my head, stretching my arms over my head. “I don’t know. Might try and get back into bikes. Only thing I was ever good at.”

“That and dancing.”

An instant flush rises in my cheeks, and I cover my face as Zee begins to laugh loudly. “I danced at that bar for one summer .”

“But what a summer it was.” They shriek as I bunch up a napkin and throw it at them. “I’m serious, you got that Latino Spice, pretty boy.”

“I say this with love, but fuck you. I am no dancer.”

“Stella likes dancing.” Zee’s head bobs back and forth, their eyebrows raised as they look at me. “Just putting it out there, some info for, y’know, future reference. But that’s all you’re getting from me.”

The idea of being in a dimly lit club with Stella and having her grind against me on the dancefloor is enough to have me huffing out a breath and scooping up my glass of water to try and calm down.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be saying that to a guy that was just locked up for 10 years.”

“You think I couldn’t get laid in prison?” I can’t help but laugh a little at Zee’s shocked expression, and quickly wave my hands in front of me. “Nah, kidding, kidding . I didn’t.”

“Better blow off some of that steam before you scare the poor woman.”

I don’t even know how to tell Zee that being in a house alone with Stella and Levi is a certain kind of hell I wasn’t ready for. Knowing they’re a few feet away, barely dressed - it’s enough to keep me awake and jerking off most of the night. I miss the feeling of another person, kissing and touching, the sounds and the heat, fuck it’s torture.

I meet Zee’s gaze and smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something out.”

“You always do, Kovac.”